Western Short StoryA Bad Draw of the CardsJ. R. Lindermuth

The
outlaw was busy currying his horse when Abel Kane entered the stable.

Rowdy
Joe McKibben glanced at him, but didn't hesitate in his task.
"Figured you'd be along sooner or later, Sheriff. They tell you
where to find me?"

"Jacobs
did."

Rowdy
Joe nodded his head. "Never should have teamed up with those
fool amateurs."

"I
have a warrant for your arrest, Joe," Kane said, his pistol
pointed at the outlaw. Don't go doin' anything foolish like going for
your gun."

"No
use to it. I ain't had no luck since comin' to Texas."

Despite
all the stories he'd heard, Kane didn't see anything fearful about
the outlaw. McKibben was a scrawny little man with dark hair and
beard, gimlet eyes and a sallow complexion. He wore a shirt faded
from many washings, his trousers were torn at one knee and his boots
appeared so old and worn Kane expected it might not be many more days
until his toes were exposed through the leather. All evidence his
career hadn't been profitable lately.

Kane
had given the liveryman money and told him to go up the street to the
saloon and have a drink. It was a precaution he took to assure the
safety of an innocent bystander. The warm air in the stable was thick
with the mingled odor of horses, warm straw bedding and manure. Dust
motes floated in the streams of light filtering through cracks in the
rough wood walls of the barn.

Kane
grinned. "What happened to you, Joe? You had a reputation back
in Arkansas. How'd you end up with that bunch of fools anyway?"

McKibben
shrugged. "Good men seem to be in short supply around here. One
of 'em recognized me when I was in a saloon havin' a drink. They
begged me to take them on, teach 'em the outlaw trade. I figured,
what the hell. Nothin' to lose. All they had to do was follow my
orders." He snorted what might have passed for a laugh. "Guess
you heard about our first attempt to rob a train over in San Saba
County?"

"That
was you? Every lawman in the state had a laugh over that fiasco."

The
outlaw hung his head. "Don't rub it in. I had drummed my plan
into their fool heads and they assured me we could pull it off. What
happens? We come up to the express car just as a conductor opened the
door. He yells 'What do you riff-raff want here?' And they all took
off like scared rabbits."

"What
did you do?"

Rowdy
Joe shrugged again. "What could I do? I had no idea how many
guns were on that train. I had no choice but to go runnin' off, too."

Kane
gestured with his pistol. "Let's go outside. Light ain't so good
in here and I don't like you bein' so close to your mount."

The
sheriff followed his prisoner out the door, both of them blinking in
the glare of the bright sun. A few horsemen and wagons passed on the
street, their presence raising no more than an occasional curious
glance.

"I
set up another train job," Rowdy Joe continued, "but they
failed me again. They begged me for one last chance. Like the fool I
am, I gave in to their pleading. Another disaster."

"The
train you waylaid outside of my town?"

"The
very one. There was a safe on the train, just like I'd been told. We
used too much dynamite. Blew the car all to hell. Safe stayed intact.
We'd blown all the dynamite. No way to open the danged thing. 'Okay,
boys,' I sez. 'We can still rob the passengers.' We got ourselves a
couple hundred dollars, some whiskey and even a nice picnic lunch
some woman was carryin'. Would have got away with it, too. Except
that fool Jacobs let his mask slip and some people on the train
recognized him. Reckon you rounded all those boys up?"

"Yes,
I did."

The
outlaw shook his head. "Lady Luck sure dealt me a bad draw of
the cards when I come out here."

"And
now I've got you, too," Kane told him. Readying his shackles, he
noticed Rowdy Joe's hand inching closer to his holstered gun. He
wasn't sure how fast on the draw the outlaw might be, but he didn't
want to take any chances. After all, the man did have a reputation in
the past. "Why don't you unbuckle your gun belt now, Joe, and
drop it to the ground. I'd rather take you in alive then draped over
your horse's back."

Joe
grinned. "You pretty fast, Sheriff?"

"Fast
enough. Besides, my gun's already drawn."

Rowdy
Joe shifted around so the sun was at his back and in the sheriff's
eyes.

Kane
blinked and shielded his eyes with his other hand. "Move back
where you were, damn you. No tricks now, Joe."

The
words were barely out of the sheriff's mouth when Joe drew his pistol
and snapped off a shot. Realizing he'd missed, McKibben muttered,
"Ain't got no luck at all." He took off running.

Rowdy
Joe had made it only a few paces when Kane's shot took him down.
Squealing in pain, the outlaw yelled, "Don't shoot again. I'm
bad hit."

Kane
stood over him, pistol still in hand. He kicked Joe's weapon out of
reach and knelt beside him to examine the wound. "Not that bad.
You'll live to make it back to town and stand trial. I warned you not
to try any tricks." He secured the shackles on McKibben's
wrists.